


Dulcet Accompaniment

by Lyricaris



Series: Harbinger's Harmony [3]
Category: The Underland Chronicles - Suzanne Collins
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-30
Updated: 2020-08-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:00:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26186830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lyricaris/pseuds/Lyricaris
Summary: Dulcet and Nerissa have lunch, and then learn of some troubling news. Set during the day Gregor leaves for the Prophecy of Bane.
Relationships: Nerissa/Dulcet
Series: Harbinger's Harmony [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1894822
Kudos: 1





	Dulcet Accompaniment

Dulcet smiled down at the little girl wiggling in her arms. Boots, on her return to the Underland, had reached the stage where she had become more willing to be set down to walk. That was, of course, until she grew tired minutes later and would ask to be scooped up again. It was a frustrating quirk of toddlers, but it had long stopped bothering Dulcet. She found children wonderful, even when they strained patience. Her own was a wide expanse, by now, a field of composure that she kept because the little ones needed her to.

They quickly stepped out onto the dock, where boats were hanging over the rushing water suspended by ropes. The Overlander and the Queen were standing surrounded by flyers, Vikus, and several others who had been chosen to go on the quest. Dulcet watched for a moment as the people rushed back and forth across the slick stone floor. The Warrior was speaking to the queen's grandfather, who was replying with some objectionable statements, going by the tightness of Gregor’s shoulders and his quick gestures at the people standing around them. She bounced Boots in her arms and frowned. Dulcet did worry, almost constantly, about the two visitors who had come down to their land and risked so much for them. Gregor was brave and often wise beyond his years when it came to parsing the difficulties of his journey, but Dulcet could see him as barely more than a child, really only a handful of years older than some of the older children she looked after. And then there was the baby who accompanied him. The thought of Boots leaving the walls of Regalia always put Dulcet’s stomach in tight knots. She knew that the Warrior would not be parted with her on his journeys. Still, she could not help but think the toddler would be much safer in the palace. But it was not her place to offer such opinions, so she just waited for the Overlander to climb onto the back of his bond and handed the girl up to him.

“Oh! Boots, you have been growing well!”

“I big girl! I ride bat! I ride bat!” Boots squealed, to no one in particular. Seeing that a friend was missing, the two-year-old waved at her favorite cockroach. “Temp ride, too!” The bug in question scurried onto Ares’s back obediently. For some reason, he was buckled into a bulky orange vest.

A moment later, the large black flier had risen into the air. Dulcet watched the party leave, the large boats carried by teams of bats leading the way down the river. The quest was out of her hands now.

That was how Dulcet had felt for much of her life; the girl in the background, taking care of the details to make life easier for those that would take their swords to the bigger problems. She'd been orphaned at such a young age that she did not remember her parents. She had lived with an aunt until she’d found employment with the royal family, and lived a simple and unassuming life. She did not much mind, as long as she helped to solve the city's problems with what skills she could. It had been rather odd and simultaneously a blessing that she had met the young Boots; Overland children had almost never fallen before, and certainly not in Dulcet’s lifetime.

She was no longer needed for the time being, however, which meant that she was resigned to waiting until news came that the prophecy had been fulfilled successfully. Or unsuccessfully, but that would not bode thinking about. Luckily, there was something else to look forward to. Her steps lightened into a near bounce as she headed back upstairs and through the corridors back toward the nursery. With any luck, Nerissa would be waiting for her there.

The princess had been a point of curiosity, ever since she had wandered past the nursery a little over a year ago. Dulcet had just moved from taking care of children for families in the city and into the palace, and it was her first casual glimpse of royalty. She had seen members of the council several times, and the young queen Luxa both in the stadium or in many official capacities. But this moment had been different, and had distinctly engraved itself into her memory. Nerissa was tall and slender, but not commanding like General Solovet, or welcoming like Vikus, or even bristling with pride like her cousin. She had held her head high, even though her back was hunched over slightly from the heavy cloak draped around her shoulders. She had advanced at an uneven pace, as if unsure of her own feet. The guards had barely acknowledged Nerissa as she passed, and her coworkers had watched her disappear down the hallway in an unnerving silence. But Dulcet had met her eyes for but a brief flash as she passed by, and had been too disarmed to even smile. That gaze had been dark and haunted, but it had also burned with a flickering fever, just waiting to flare out and consume the world.

When Dulcet had asked after the identity of the girl, she had been told in hushed tones that she was the Princess, heir to the throne after the queen. When Dulcet had imagined an heir, she would have thought first of the boisterous, daring Henry, not his frail sister. She had heard, of course, how the weaker cousin was afflicted with some illness and saw visions in her dreams. That perhaps they were not true visions at all, but just the panicked ramblings of an ill mind.

Dulcet judged those rumors not only false, but a touch insidious. She had always believed that the different should be cherished and offered understanding, not shunned or ignored. Dulcet had worked with many a child who was peculiar in some way, who simply would not respond or responded the wrong way. She did not blame or discredit them for it, as frustrated parents often did. And then there were the childrens' interactions themselves: much cruelty had been inflicted upon Regalia in the past years, and children imitated what they knew in the plainest of ways. It was not difficult for the youngest among them to lay bare the faults that adults shied away from.

Regalia saw Nerissa struggling, and so treated her with less respect accordingly. Dulcet had wanted, even if she was unable to offer encouragement, to offer acknowledgement. She had started saying hello and offering a wave whenever she caught the princess in the halls, which happened only sporadically but only strengthened her impression that Nerissa had not been offered kindness for much too long. The tall girl had always been thrown by the eye contact and the recognition, even once checking behind her to ensure Dulcet hadn’t been gesturing at somebody else.

Dulcet hadn’t been sure that Nerissa had really remembered _her_ , though, until a couple months ago when they had crossed paths very late at night. Dulcet had volunteered to pick up an evening shift outside her usual hours when a coworker had fallen sick, and had just put the last child to bed. The princess must have heard her humming the lullaby, because she stopped for a chat when she passed by. It was the longest Dulcet had ever spoken to her. Nerissa had been sweet and a little bewildered at the condolences she had tried to offer. Dulcet had worried that she’d been too open, too forward with royalty, perhaps, even if the princess was too modest to state her offense by it.

But then Nerissa had walked by the nursery several days later, just as she was leaving, and the princess had been the first to say hello this time. Dulcet thought it had been a coincidence, couldn’t have expected anything more or less, until they had started crossing paths more regularly. Eventually, she had invited the princess inside the nursery to help out and play with the children, and Nerissa had seemed pleased that she could be depended upon to help out. She was sweet with the children, a little timid around them perhaps, but endearing in her willingness to share about her life and entertain their little questions. 

It was just around this time that Nerissa usually came to visit. Dulcet knew it was a busy day, that the other girl had been well-occupied in the prophecy room consulting the words of Sandwich upon news of the Overlander’s return. It was getting ahead of herself to expect that there would be time for a friendly chat, but Dulcet felt the anticipation lift her mood anyways as she turned the corner into the wide, spacious room where the children played.

It was mostly empty, as one of the nannies had taken the little ones for lunch. But a tall, slightly stooped figure was sitting upon a rocking chair, and lifted her head as the nanny stepped into the doorway.

“Thought I might catch you here, Dulcet.”

\--

“Saw me coming, did you?”

Dulcet smiled as she crossed the room, and Nerissa felt something in her chest flutter a little bit as she pulled up a chair. Nerissa was tired already, from speaking with the Overlander, but seeing a good friend always calmed and refreshed her. Dulcet was perhaps her only reliable friend at the moment, a small beacon of steady calm in the torrent of chaos that surrounded her.

Their exchange of greetings was a bit of a private jest by now. Nerissa made it in reference her own ability, even though the only reason she ever showed up on time was entirely due to her knowledge of the schedule and not at all precognition. Nerissa’s visions did not give her such specific details, and she did not expect it to. Dulcet was a rare surprise in her life, a rare but welcome one, and she hoped to keep it that way. After that surprisingly insightful conversation the night Luxa had found her down by the water, Nerissa had hoped to stop by again, and so she had worked through her many contacts to get the schedule for the nursery. It was a simple one. Dulcet worked most days and a handful of evenings, but she tended to take a break at this time in the afternoon.

Not that Nerissa minded sitting with the children—they were lively and adorable and retained an innocence she so envied—but today she was a too worn out and looking for a more private conversation.

“I was worried perhaps you had taken the children to lunch,” she started tentatively.

“No, I have just returned from the docks. To send off Boots with her brother.”

Nerissa felt her stomach drop at that, the little reminder that her study of prophecy was coming true outside of her control. She could only read the stone walls so many times before she accepted that there was nothing more she could do. “The Prophecy of Bane” had upset her even before Henry had taken that fateful leap, but now that the party had left she was stuck in the nauseating, seemingly eternal wait. For the first time, though, she had company at the palace in the interim—not only was Luxa staying back for this one, but she had made a new friend, as well.

Dulcet must have seen her react, because she backtracked quickly. “They are a well-protected group. I am sure the winds of the Waterway are at their back.”

Nerissa tried to smile—for Dulcet, even if it was a little forced. “You are right. There is nothing to be accomplished by worrying here.” She would not be useful on the journey, either way. “Have you dined yet, this afternoon?”

The other girl, taken aback by the sudden change of subject, quickly closed her mouth. “I…uh, no, I have not. I suppose I should be eating right now, but my brief trip has made me late.”

“If you have the time, perhaps you would join me for a meal?”

It was rather amusing to watch Dulcet scrambling for words. Nerissa's was a bold invitation, perhaps, but between the two of them she was the only one who could offer such initiative. She tried to keep humble, and she doubted the nanny held her status against her, but Dulcet was still not in a position to baldly ask a princess to share lunch. Nerissa was used to being the flustered one during their exchanges—always a little unsure what to say, always a little…distracted.

“I would be honored to, Nerissa.”

Nerissa ducked her head to hide her blush. So much for not being flustered. “It’s not much to put on manners about,” she laughed as she stood, sweeping the cloak off the chair behind her. “I was simply hoping for some company, to distract us all from the new quest.”

Dulcet nodded, visibly pleased, and fell into step beside her as she made for the door. The nanny was shorter by about a head, but their gaits had never matched. Whereas Nerissa moved at a halting stumble, Dulcet had always floated with a calm, muted confidence. It was one of the reasons her company was so uplifting; she always seemed to inject a certain brightness into the room, like the warmth of a hearth.

Leading the way to her private dining room, Nerissa felt almost conspicuous. It had been a very long time since she had walked the halls with anyone other than her cousin or grandfather.

“It’s beautiful,” Dulcet breathed as they arrived.

The chamber had a quaint little fountain in one corner, and old tapestries that had been some of Sandwich’s earliest. They depicted scenes from the Overland that Nerissa had neither witnessed or learned much about, but it was a good respite from the stories of their own bloody history. The way the Warrior spoke of New York City, she imagined it might be peaceful up there.

“I prefer to dine here,” Nerissa explained. “It has a calming aura, does it not?” She thought, but did not add aloud, that Dulcet only made the space more pleasing to the eye.

“I have never seen this part of the palace before.”

“It is part of the royal wing,” Nerissa explained as they both took seats across from each other. The table only sat six, and without flyers it was quite spacious. She ignored the head of the table, and Dulcet followed her lead so that they were not staring each other down from the ends of the stone slab.

“I did not expect…I would ever see it,” Dulcet explained timidly.

“I could give you a tour sometime,” Nerissa offered.

“That would be very nice.”

Dulcet was blushing again, and Nerissa felt that strange flutter in her stomach react. She did not remember the last time she had been excited to have company for a meal, much less looking forward to a spot of conversation.

Soon, a butler came in with the food. They had been expecting her, and it was simple fare—some bread and fruit, salad and roast beef.

Dulcet seemed fascinated with the provisions either way. “I am a little surprised, that royalty eats like the rest of us.”

Nerissa took a nibble of her bread and inclined her head. “I find rich food is usually too much for me. Besides, there is no great occurrence to be celebrated, and I dislike taking up resources that could be used elsewhere.”

“Of course. Your modesty has not gone unnoticed,” Dulcet replied, one side of her mouth quirking.

It took her a moment to realize the nanny had been teasing, and then Nerissa blushed red enough she could see the color spreading to her pale fingertips. She had always been jealous of the Overlanders in this, that their embarrassment at most only registered in their faces.

“I suppose I have made somewhat a habit of staying beneath notice,” she scrambled to reply.

“Which is something, considering the difficulty in ignoring you, your highness.” Dulcet actually _winked_ this time, which did nothing for Nerissa’s shade. She was as bright as the beets on her plate now.

“I did not think that many wanted to interact with me,” she tried to explain. “Since my parents passed, and Henry after that, perhaps I was better to forget.”

“Forget?” Dulcet speared a piece of roast beef and waved it in the air questioningly.

She had moved past her initial nervousness very quickly, as soon as they had been left alone in the room. It was another thing Nerissa appreciated so much about Dulcet. She brought enough awkwardness into any situation herself without any aid from her company. Luxa and Vikus, and even Henry not so long ago, commanded space with gravity and dignity of their own, leaving her the easy job of following their lead, but when alone it was another matter entirely. Dulcet wasn’t hardheaded or boastful, which Nerissa would have been familiar enough with, but instead gracious and amiable without putting on airs or exaggerating her manners. It made the princess feel as if she was not such at all, but perhaps just another normal girl, albeit in a palace.

“I do not think the city has forgotten you,” Dulcet was saying, again giving Nerissa that room to elaborate without prying.

“Not forgotten, perhaps…” Nerissa picked up a piece of dry apricot and squished it between her fingers, trying to find the right word. “but largely allowed to fade into the background.”

“Trust me, Nerissa, it was not a slow fade. Everyone sees you. Perhaps they are just not bold enough to confront you.”

Dropping the apricot back onto her plate, the princess felt her brows contract. “It does seem a pattern, that many wish to avoid one who delivers such premonitions.”

It wasn’t hard for her to notice, even if she was doubtful of her own lucidity at times. The distance her subjects gave her, as if they came too close a horror from the future might be unleashed upon them.

“It must be difficult, carrying the weight of such visions,” Dulcet replied quietly, all trace of her earlier jovial manner having melted away. “I did not mean to make light of it. We cannot understand what you see, and so perhaps it unsettles some. But I would venture to say that such judgments reflect poorly on those giving them, and not your own nature.”

A small, rueful laugh escaped Nerissa’s lips. She was grateful for Dulcet’s understanding. Surprised, even, that someone else could grasp her alienation and fear so aptly, but she was past placing fault. Those that did not feel comfortable around her were lost causes. She did not feel comfortable in her _own_ company, somedays, and could not censure others for behaving in such a manner. In studying the nature of prophecies and the gravity of decisions, Nerissa understood that the very worst of Regalia could not be entirely eradicated—only curbed, at best.

“The visions have already come, and I am doubtful they will ever end. Whether or not that impacts my image, the damage has already been done. Most of the city’s opinion on my ability—or lack thereof—has already solidified.”

“Mine has,” Dulcet forged ahead, “and it is not one of skepticism. I think you carry a great and terrible gift, ‘Rissa, but that is not to be feared, it is one to be respected.”

“If only that were a popular sentiment.”

“Perhaps I will have to make it one,” Dulcet smiled at her. “It is but a change of perspective.”

“Much other credit needs to be given, to those of us who cannot swing a sword,” Nerissa pointed out. “Not only to myself, but to you as well, Dulcet. The children that visit us, they must attribute much of their safety not only to the steel and stone that we keep at our borders, but also to the care they receive in the castle.”

Dulcet grinned a little. “Children were as forthcoming with their gratitude. It is my duty to serve who I can, of course.”

Nerissa wondered, sometimes, about her own views on duty. Perhaps in other circumstances it would have been her responsibility to defend the city with a weapon in hand, on the broad back of a flyer, or with a crown on her head. She rather dreaded thinking about it, but in retrospect even with her life on the line it could have been freeing in other ways. Less the burden of knowledge, but more that of battle.

“We all do what we can, to survive in the Underworld,” Nerissa returned, paraphrasing what she had once heard Vikus say. In was a fragile existence, and oftentimes much too short.

“There are delights to look forward to as well. Breaking bread with a princess, for example.”

Nerissa smiled at that. Yes, there were moments she was glad she could still cling to. “This might be the most contact I have had with anyone outside of my family for quite some time. I am not the best conversationalist even on my good days.”

“Well, then I am very flattered indeed.” Dulcet held her gaze for a moment more than strictly necessary.

Nerissa was suddenly reminded that she was the one here not on a schedule. “Apologies, I must have completely forgotten you need to return to the nursery. I hope I have not kept you.”

“I should be heading back, but the delay has been my own—this has been lovely.”

Dulcet rose, pushing her chair in. Nerissa stood to walk her to the door, but was stopped by a hand on her shoulder.

“Please, stay and finish your meal,” the nanny said with a glance at Nerissa’s barely touched plate. “I have enjoyed this immensely, and look forward to seeing you soon. Have a relaxing afternoon, Your Highness.”

She had slipped out the door in the next minute, and the princess sat down a moment later, realizing her knees were a shaking a little. The spot where Dulcet’s hand had brushed her upper arm still felt warm.

\--

Dulcet found herself a bit distracted the whole evening as she finished her day’s shift. As she carried infants to naps and fed those that were fussing, her thoughts kept drifting in snapshots back to that gorgeous little dining room, the soft lilt of Nerissa’s voice, the way her smile had never quite reached her eyes.

It pained her, that Nerissa thought that she was feared or ostracized. Not in that it strayed from the truth, but instead hit a little too close to it. She was so gentle, free of hatred even with a heart so scarred by sorrow. Dulcet wished she could soothe that part of the prophet, the fraction of her always living in fear or anxiety or grief. That was something she most enjoyed about her work, offering solace to the young when they cried and wanted for care. But Nerissa was no upset toddler—the wounds there might take more than Dulcet could offer, to heal.

She had just finished a couple of baths in the washrooms, and was standing in the open changing area listening to the constant melody of flowing water when another nanny, Noah, came to trade spots with her.

“Dulcet! Have you heard?”

She passed a sleepy toddler over to her coworker and toweled off her hands. The glint of apprehension in his eyes made her stomach sink.

“No, not at all. Has something happened?”

“It’s the Queen! Queen Luxa has left for the Labyrinth!”

“The Labyrinth? But—I thought that she—”

“Was banned from fulfilling the prophecy, yes, indeed! Councilman Vikus is very concerned, but it looks like she and her bond left on a delay to catch the group as they headed down the Waterway.”

“There is much danger there, especially for a queen. Can she not fly back?”

“One of the guards heard the council talking. It will be too far for Aurora to make back, so she must stay with the ships now.”

Dulcet breathed in slowly, feeling her heart twitch a little in her ribcage. The queen could not be recalled from the quest then, and there was no telling what grave threats wanted to claim her life in a land occupied by so many gnawers. Almost immediately her mind went to Nerissa, who was now alone in the palace.

The queen was brave and talented nearly beyond measure at her age in martial matters, she knew, but eleven-year-olds did not make the wisest of decisions.

After excusing herself, Dulcet hurried out of the bathrooms. While she was rather selfishly glad for baby Boots and her brother that they had a more seasoned fighter on their side, she knew the general consensus inside their fortress would not be the same. There was a lot riding on the shoulders of the young regent, especially now that war with the rats hovered on the horizon. This was not public knowledge, but in her recent conversations with Nerissa the princess had mentioned her own readings of Sandwich’s prophecies indicated violence was headed for Regalia.

In her distracted state, Dulcet missed the turn for the nursery entirely. It had been a very taxing day, especially considering she had been pulling two shifts back to back. Looking around, Dulcet sighed and was just about to turn around when she saw a strange shadow down the hall.

She took two steps forward, saw that it was a doorway left ajar that she had never encountered before. In approaching, the glint of the polished wood shined in the torchlight cast from the opposite wall. The sight beyond the entrance made her stop in her tracks. This wasn’t just any room—it was the prophecy room. Dulcet peeked around the frame, heart pounding.

Nerissa was sitting in shadow in the back corner, cloak at her feet, shattered glass covering the floor along the edge of the stone wall. Her long hair had fallen out of the braids that they had been smoothed into at lunch.

Dulcet was reacting before she could think. She grabbed the nearest torch and rushed into the tiny room with it, sending bright spots of fire flashing around the small alcove. The ceilings were quite low, and the walls were an odd texture, but Dulcet paid none of that any attention as she squatted down beside the princess.

“Your Highness! Are you alright?”

Nerissa lifted her head slowly, strands of silvery hair covering her gaze. The violet irises had gone almost cloudy, paradoxically unfocused in their intensity. One spidery hand came up and brushed the curtain away.

“Dulcet?”

“Yes, it’s me. How are you?”

Nerissa looked down at her lap, and that’s when Dulcet saw the blood smeared across the princess’s other palm. “You’re hurt!”

“No—not…not badly.” The other girl paused. Her arms were trembling, and she worked her jaw for a minute before any other words came out. “It was an accident.”

Dulcet took a deep breath to quell the panic that had risen into her throat, a burning acid bile. She had been trained to deal with emergencies, and it did not look like Nerissa had sustained any grievous harm. She quickly rose to place the torch in a holder on the wall so she could use both her hands and see what she was doing.

Shoes crunching over the pieces of broken glass as she crouched down, Dulcet took Nerissa’s wrist very carefully in her own. It was bleeding quite a bit, but looked scarier than it was—Dulcet had dealt with quite a few scrapes on the job, and knew that often the amount of blood could be misleading. At least it wasn’t a head wound.

“May I?”

The princess nodded, so she gathered a corner of the cloak and tied it tightly around the laceration. They could stop by the hospital soon, but for now it would be best to stop the bleeding. When she was done, she stepped back and carefully squeezed Nerissa’s shoulder to get her attention. She seemed lost in space, eyes never fully catching Dulcet’s own.

“Can you stand? Let’s move away from the glass.”

She helped Nerissa to her feet, and they stumbled together to the opposite corner of the room. She had wanted to move into the hallway, perhaps flag down some help, but the princess’s stance faltered at the door so they both slid to a sitting position there.

"I need another minute,” Nerissa breathed, voice barely there.

Dulcet arranged herself so she wasn’t sitting on the trailing edge of the cloak hanging off of the Nerissa’s hand, and kept her own arm wrapped around the other girl’s shoulder. It was a close embrace, but the princess didn’t seem to mind. If anything, she was leaning heavily on Dulcet’s shoulder.

“Would you like me to go get some help? I’m sure we can get that looked at, and I can clean up the floor.”

Nerissa shook her head, her breath coming in shallow puffs. “No. Stay, please. It is not bad…I just…”

Dulcet bit her lip and nodded. Nerissa’s world must be spinning right now. She kept quiet for a moment, letting the other girl catch her breath. Nerissa was still shaking, and Dulcet knew instinctively more pressure would only frazzle her.

After a few minutes, the princess finally lifted her head and straightened slightly. “I hope I did not scare you.”

Dulcet smiled. “Of course not. I am relieved to see you are alright.”

Nerissa took a deep breath. “My cousin…she…”

“I heard,” Dulcet interrupted quietly. She did need Nerissa to repeat the news that must have brought her so much anguish.

“She did not tell me,” Nerissa whispered. “I did not think to check in on her…”

“The queen can take care of herself.” The statement fell a little flat, considering Luxa was still only a child, but Dulcet pressed on anyways. “She must have had good reasons to join the venture, and she is a headstrong girl.”

The next thought she did not say aloud, but she was sure that Nerissa caught it in that piercing understanding of hers. That if Luxa had been set on following, there was nothing short of arrest that could have stopped her.

“I should have known she planned to go.”

“Even with your vision, Nerissa, you cannot expect to see everything,” Dulcet chided as gently as she was able. “You cannot possibly fault yourself for this. The whole city wishes she had not gone, but now we can only wait for her safe return. Are you sure you’re alright?”

“When I heard the news, my first thought was to come here.” Nerissa’s shoulders shook a little as that same rueful laugh she’d uttered at lunch bubbled out of her, but this time it was harsher, grating on the air around them. She took another slow breath, chest shuddering a little with the effort. “Not that it is much help. I was so upset I ran into the lamp on the wall.”

Dulcet nodded. That’s where all the glass had come from. She did not care to press further—there was more to that story, but she could tell that it had been a moment of great frustration. Especially when there was another injury that needed tending to.

“Do you think we could make it down to the hospital? That cut may need to be looked at.”

“It will be alright, they will send a doctor to my rooms. The hospital is too far for me at the moment. Would you…would you walk me back?”

Helping Nerissa to her feet, Dulcet let her shift her weight before they headed out, the princess leading the way. They ran into a guard almost immediately, and Dulcet immediately informed him of the doctor they needed along with the glass in the prophecy room.

Thankfully, Nerissa’s chambers were not far, only a turn away from the parlor in which they had eaten just hours ago. They entered an open atrium that attached to several rooms, probably meant for other members of the royal family. Dulcet felt something inside her twist, for the girl leaning on her shoulder who was now the only one left to live in this area. Everything was ornate, the carvings that usually adorned the outsides of the walls having flooded inside, along with several statues and a thick rug in front of a crackling fireplace. Dulcet was handed a small silver key that she used to unlock the heavy door, and then they shuffled in together.

Nerissa’s bedroom was smaller than she had expected, but missing the gilding and excessive decoration. The room was a rectangle with more rugs on the stone floor and one wall filled with small windows. They were up high enough that the breaks in the wall were not so much a hazard, but thick curtains were drawn over the windows as well. A four-poster bed draped in blankets sat opposite a well-made oak writing desk. On the far side of the room was small dresser, along with a dusty vanity.

They sat heavily atop the sheets, Nerissa letting out a small sigh of relief. Their progress had been slow, and the princess had yet to stop shaking. Dulcet knew from experience that the tremble was a constant one, but it waxed and waned.

It had only been a few minutes, but as Nerissa had said the doctor came almost immediately. Dulcet moved to a different chair to give them some room. She guessed that given the princess’s fragile state, and her preference for privacy, the hospital was used to sending people up to check on her.

The doctor quickly disinfected and bandaged Nerissa’s hand, and then suggested some immediate bed rest. She left just as quickly as she had come, shutting the door behind her.

Dulcet stood, wondering if she should make an excuse or ask a question or some hybrid thereof, but before she could speak Nerissa sighed delicately.

“Grandfather will be concerned.”

“Councilman Vikus?” Dulcet stood up and came to lean against the bed frame as Nerissa turned to look at her with that piercing violet gaze.

“I do not mean to worry him more, when he is already cleaning up after the uproar Luxa’s departure must have caused. I did not mean to worry you, either, Dulcet. I imagine you must have been quite surprised to find me so out of sorts.”

“I was only concerned for your safety. I would have been…agitated, as well, upon hearing the news.”

“She knows better.” There was a hint of pure anger in Nerissa’s voice, now, a tone that made Dulcet’s heart kick up a notch. It was hard and cold, like a vein of iron. “Luxa knows better, but she went anyways. Last time she had to go, but now? How could she be so reckless? She is queen, only a handful of years stands between her and the throne. She should _act_ like it!”

Nerissa shaking was different from before—her fists were clenched, elbows right angles that jutted into her lap. Dulcet hated seeing her like this, knew the helpless feeling all too well. She stepped forward silently, sitting on the edge of the bed. Even if she had not been directly addressed or dismissed, there was no one else in the room to offer a sliver of comfort.

“Nerissa—”

The princess shook her head. “Apologies. You…do not need to hear me rant. It seems I am still a little shaken.”

“Anger is only natural.”

The other girl’s head snapped toward her. “You believe so?”

“I do not wish to criticize the queen, my lady. The decision she made is not mine to judge.”

“She is your ruler, too. What she has done _should_ be yours to judge.”

“Perhaps.”

Dulcet paused for a minute then, smoothing her hands on the floral bedspread beneath her. She knew was, at times, too forgiving. Too patient, too _kind._ Which, she mused, should not have been a tremendous problem. Nevertheless it could be a dangerous problem to have. Queen Luxa admittedly deserved some reprimand for the city she had all but abandoned. She thought of the Overlander, then, and his younger sister. Wondered what choice she would have made, faced with going to aid her friends on the water or protecting a city that must seem like a prison.

“But I do not know that I would have made a better evaluation, in her place. All I can offer is an ear to vent to. You, of all people, have the right to be frustrated. She has left the kingdom in your care.”

“Anger achieves little enough. As for making better decisions…I doubt that is within my ability either.”

“Mm. I disagree.”

“Oh?”

“Whatever else anyone has disregarded, ‘Rissa, no one can deny your wisdom.”

Dulcet turned sideways and almost jumped when she realized how close Nerissa was. She did not remember moving, so the princess must have scooted her way. She had been entirely too distracted by those magnetic violet eyes that seemed to look right through her.

“You think me wise.”

“The age we live in, all these prophecies. Who else do we have to parse them? You might be the first since Regalia’s founding to have true insight, to give direction.”

Nerissa was only inches away now. The sides of their fingers and upper arms were brushing, and the princess’s elbow was pressing into her own. Breathing shallow, Dulcet forced herself to still instead of leaning forward.

“And if the directions I give are misleading?”

“I expect they will be. But if we are not pointed in a direction, then we may have none at all.”

Nerissa leaned back a fraction, tilting her head so she was looking back down at her hands. “It may all be futile. Often, I am convinced future tragedy is unavoidable.”

The princess looked more than tired in that moment. She looked _defeated,_ like there was no point in continuing. The space between them had opened up, and it felt cold, like a whisper of isolation. Dulcet shivered. Her hand reached up, of its own volition, and tucked a strand of silver hair behind Nerissa’s ear. She left her fingers there, curled at the edge of the delicate jaw.

“I believe in your sight, I truly do. But when faced with horrors, what can we do but _try_ to change them?”

Dulcet hadn’t expected an answer, but even less had she expected what Nerissa did next. The princess leaned forward, the fever in her eyes dilated, and before Dulcet could draw a breath in there were suddenly soft lips on her own. Her palm slid around the nape of the princess’s neck, the other finding an elbow, and a thin arm wrapped around her waist. Dulcet closed her eyes as a soft tongue tentatively met her own. She lost herself in feeling, felt her mind drift somewhere else entirely, her heart floating upward, burning like a miniature fire.

Nerissa pulled away way too quickly, jerking backwards, her hands falling down towards Dulcet’s wrists.

“I—am sorry. I’m not sure what came over me.”

Smiling, Dulcet twined the princess’s fingers in her own and squeezed tightly. “You do not need to apologize so much.”

But the words were burbling out now, coming faster, a torrent of explanation. “You have been an exceptional friend, is all, and I was not thinking—I don’t—did not—want to force anything on you, that—”

“’Rissa, stop.”

Dulcet took the princess’s face in both her hands and leaned forward to kiss her again. It was softer, but longer, this time, an exploration of something she felt she must have wanted to do for months now. They were both gasping as they pulled apart, Nerissa’s eyes still half-closed.

“I was too afraid to ask.” Nerissa was flushed a dark crimson, her skin warm to the touch.

“Ask what?”

“If perhaps, you also wanted…”

“To be more than friends?” Dulcet hadn’t been sure of Nerissa's intentions either. There had been a lot of signals to read, and she hadn’t wanted to put anything even resembling pressure on the princess trying so hard to sort out the future for everyone else. Besides, Nerissa was royalty, and despite her gentle nature there had been the chance she would take offense.

The princess was pulling away now, wrapping her arms around herself, not making any eye contact. Dulcet found that space opening up between them again, was hit with a sudden flash of fear that she had been too forward.

“I…am not sure what this is.”

“It doesn’t need to be something,” Dulcet provided gently. “Whatever you feel, we do not need to label it.”

“I am unsure _what_ I feel.”

“That is alright, too.”

“Perhaps I acted too quickly. I’m sor—” When Dulcet cleared her throat, Nerissa laughed a little and corrected herself. “I mean, there is a lot on my mind. I do not want to rush into anything.”

“Of course.” With a small sigh, Dulcet slowly rose to her feet. “It has been a long and taxing day, Your Highness. You need some rest. If you’d like me to leave, I can.”

“And if I asked you to stay?”

There was a shuddering pause where Nerissa finally lifted her head, eyes flickering across the other girl's face as if scanning for an answer. Dreams, Dulcet thought—Nerissa knew a horde of nightmares were headed in her direction, some of them perhaps only reality waiting to happen. That was not something anyone should have to face alone. 

Dulcet smiled, hoisted herself onto the bed and curled up on a pillow, extending an arm toward the princess. “Then by all means, let me keep you company.”


End file.
